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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28315656">Scales</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowAndRayne/pseuds/SnowAndRayne'>SnowAndRayne</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rick and Morty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>First Time, Fluff, Happy Ending, Incest, Lizard Person AU, Lizard Rick/Lizard Morty, M/M, Praise Kink, Secret Santa 2020, Size Difference, Societally Condoned Incest, a/b/o au, dubcon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:14:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,147</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28315656</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowAndRayne/pseuds/SnowAndRayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick is dangerous. </p><p>An Alpha amongst Alphas with claws that rip and teeth that tear. This is something Morty knows in his blood as adrenaline and the heady, almost high feeling of pitting himself against the darkness rushes through him. He’s high on every biological instinct he has—fight, flight, fuck—and Morty finally understands that this is what he was meant for. What he was born for.</p><p>A short while after his Grandfather's return to the Family Unit, Morty Smith finds that Rick has been side-eyeing him and scent-marking the house. Morty, who has never been particularly smart, is clueless about what's happening. But when he arrives home ready to begin a long weekend, he finds his parents absent and Rick already waiting for him in his bedroom...</p><p> </p><p>(A Lizard Person omegaverse au.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>183</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Scales</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=420depression">420depression</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my Secret Santa gift for Aki! (420depression) Merry Christmas, Aki!!! </p><p>I chose not to flesh out the universe too much as the fic is already quite lengthy but there are hints at a wider society with its own issues regarding equality that mirror some of the issues we might see today.</p><p> Rick and Morty's sexual behaviour is based on the behaviours of lizards while the hierarchy in the Smith Family Unit is based loosely on lion prides.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rick’s scent has permeated the whole house. Pungent, suffocating, and so thick you could almost see it. It’s strange and wrong. Fetid. Fertile. Humid with the stench of liquor. Yet it is strangely familiar. Almost intimate. If it weren’t so darn <em>strong</em>, Morty might even find pleasant.</p><p>But there’s just so <em>much </em>of it! So powerful and so persistent Morty can detect it from the sidewalk. And whenever he’s indoors, Morty can’t breathe without a lungful of his own Grandfather.</p><p>His parents must have noticed it. It isn’t exactly something one could ignore for any significant amount of time. Morty suspects that the act of pointedly not bringing it up is simply a game of unspoken chicken. Beth is the biggest clue. She’s worn a vacant expression for days, her wine glass full and her eyes empty.</p><p>If this is a game of chicken, Rick’s winning.</p><p>Morty makes his way upstairs--all the while fighting the temptation to hold his nose--with the intention of shedding his jeans and spending a quality afternoon alone with his laptop. His English assignment is due at the end of the long weekend but he’ll still scrape a C if—</p><p>“Afternoon.”</p><p>A familiar gravelly voice interrupts Morty’s thoughts and his pubescent voice breaks on a shrill squeak. Morty starts when he sees Rick lounging across his bedspread, pale slender limbs sprawled lazily like a confident spider, his mouth curved into a smirk while his eyes glint with a puckish savagery that makes Morty stiffen. But even worse is the <em>scent. </em>The scent hanging over the rest of the house is downright subtle by comparison. Morty’s eyes water from the shock of it and he can <em>taste</em> it in the back of his mouth. He reels back, recoiling from the onslaught of pheromones too intense to ignore. It’s the smell of masculinity, strength, <em>power,</em> coupled with a unique sharpness that sends Morty’s chest rushing into an instinctual panic.</p><p>Morty begins backing out of the room, shaking his head as though in denial. Though in denial of <em>what</em>, Morty cannot begin to guess. Something primal is taking over and the fact that it is happening <em>here, </em>in his bedroom—a sanctuary which housed his private things—somehow makes this whole scenario even more terrifying.</p><p>“Now Morty,” Rick says in a very patient tone, his roguish smile unwavering. “I’d like you to come inside.”</p><p>Morty shakes his head more vigorously.</p><p>Something is very <em>very </em>wrong.</p><p>“M-Morty, you need to behave yourself and come inside the bedroom. That’s an order, Morty.”</p><p>Somehow, despite every instinct screaming at him to flee; Morty manages to take a cautious step into the bedroom. Rick removes himself from the bed and moves across the room with predatory grace.</p><p>Morty’s spine stiffens at the sound of the lock.</p><p>“Aw jeez,” Morty holds his elbow and looks around himself. Everything which should be familiar feels jarringly foreign. That’s his bed, his desk, his lamp, his posters and books… but he somehow knows they aren’t <em>his</em> anymore. They belong to Rick now. And the most prominent part of Morty doesn’t simply acknowledge that, but understands it as an inevitable fact. “Wh-wh-what’s going on, Rick?”</p><p>Rick sits back down on the bed and a look of pity washes over his face for a brief moment.</p><p>“I take it your parents never explained.”</p><p>“Explained what?”</p><p>“Ah fuck.” Rick drags a hand over his face. “Y-y-you’d think your dumb little sex ed classes would have explained everything even if your parents didn’t. D-didn’t you think it was strange that I was scent-marking the house?”</p><p>“Aw jeez Rick, i-is that what’s been going on?”</p><p>“Christ, how dumb <em>are</em> you?” The look of annoyance meshed with sympathy doesn’t leave Rick’s face but his lips thin a little. “No other males or alphas on the property for the next forty-eight hours. Y-Your family’s gone on a long weekend vacation, Morty. Gotta give me time to do my business.”</p><p>“What?!” Morty’s eyes quickly dart this way and that, suddenly not only afraid, but <em>hurt. </em>“They-th-they didn’t tell me!”</p><p>Rick twitches and has the good grace to look remorseful. For a fleeting moment, Morty hopes his grandfather will take pity on him and leave him alone. But from the way the air hums with Rick’s unrelenting arousal, Morty knows that even if Rick has any shred of remorse, mercy is still out of the question.</p><p>“They… they left me here. They left me here with you so you could— s-so you could—” Morty clutches the fabric of his T-shirt over his racing chest and tries not to cry. “Oh god! Oh my god!”</p><p>Morty feels Rick’s patient observing gaze upon him as he desperately tries to avoid a meltdown.</p><p>Perhaps he already knew, in some quiet subconscious way, that Rick was going to do something to him. After all, the signs had all been there: the scent-marking, the way his Grandfather kept eyeing him, the way Rick’s usual insults had devolved into terse grunts and irritated glares… But his mind—or perhaps something more animal and less rational—kept up a humane sort of denial to keep him from fleeing.</p><p>But the worst part is knowing that whatever happens to him won’t be the actions of some opportunistic predator. No. Rick <em>planned</em> this. He organized a date and time and arranged it with his parents all so he could get his carnal needs out of the way.</p><p>“Please…” Morty begins to beg and immediately regrets it when his grandfather’s eyes flash red, his shoulders square and his lip curls to expose the tips of his sharp carnivorous teeth, signalling the old Alpha-lizard’s barely-contained itch to attack.</p><p>He doesn’t need to say anything more. Morty understands. And in that moment Morty hates his body; the way in which his biology behaves in response to his grandfather’s insistent pheromones. The scales on his lower back tingle, his tail stills, his usually inverted hemipenis peeps out with aroused curiosity. He feels so <em>heavy</em> and his heart pounds a little harder. His body is telling him to lie down and present himself.</p><p>He has never been strong or talented but, <em>dammit,</em> he still has at least a little bit of integrity.</p><p>“I won’t.” Morty says defiantly, choosing to brave Rick’s ire. “Your my— Rick, we’re <em>related!</em>”</p><p>Of course, it isn’t unheard of, just… really old-fashioned. Hell, it’s become almost unheard of since the fifties. There were really only two reasons for incestuous mating back then. The first was to keep bloodlines pure. Alphas would typically mate with the most desirable of their Family Unit in order to increase the chances of more trait-positive offspring. Rare scale colours, longer tails, larger hemipenes… but Morty has none of those things. Out of the pair of them, Morty is the plainer specimen. Rick is the one with rare abronia scales, beautiful eyes, and long thrashing tail. There is no obvious reason to single him out.</p><p>The second reason is more sinister: Subjugation.</p><p>Back in the old days, before the protests, there was only legally (and safely) allowed to be one Alpha per Family Unit. Any more than that was subject to investigation, not to mention nasty rumours of sexual inadequacy. After all, no competent alpha would willingly let a rival touch their property. As a result, each Alpha had the legal right to sexually subjugate each member of the household as a form of corporal punishment; the hormones in their ejaculate preventing the development of alpha characteristics and thus maintaining order and a harmonious household.</p><p>These days, of course, anyone can move out and become an Alpha if they so choose. Hell, in most Blue States “alternative” Family Units with two—sometimes more—Alphas have become increasingly common. Sexual subjugation is only done to particularly difficult Omegas who don’t behave and seem likely to prematurely challenge their alphas for dominance. It’s rare, though still perfectly legal.</p><p>But Morty hasn’t done anything wrong! He sometimes got a little lippy on their adventures, but certainly nothing to warrant such heavy-handed discipline. And he definitely isn’t going to challenge Rick for dominance. Aside from the certain loss—which could result in grievous injury or even death—Morty always considered the responsibilities of Alphas (employment, having his own bank account etc.) too daunting to ever want to be one. He’s long suspected that his mother disliked it and his suspicions were all but confirmed when she’d practically gift-wrapped the status back to Rick when he suddenly arrived on their doorstep. They’d shut the door to the master bedroom and that had been the end of Beth’s place as de facto head of the household.</p><p>“Mom!” Morty suddenly protests. “Mom’s going to be pissed when she finds out about this!”</p><p>“Tch,” Rick strides into the centre of the room and crosses his arms, long tail swishing impatiently. “Your mom’s not stupid, Morty. Y-you think a woman of <em>her</em> profession didn’t notice my scent? She already knows.”</p><p>Something precious held within Morty finally breaks.</p><p>“You mean mom just… <em>gave </em>me to you?”</p><p>Rick shrugs. “She certainly didn’t put up much of a fight.”</p><p>Morty wraps himself in a tight hug, trying to hide how hurt he is. He’s always had a complicated relationship with her but Beth was undeniably a good provider, a diligent mother, and a more than adequate Alpha. While she seemed disappointed Morty would likely remain an omega like his father—his grades made Beta unlikely and his stature meant challenging an Alpha for dominance would be impossible—she still encouraged him to at least try. Morty always assumed she’d hoped if he were decently desirable Omega, he would attract a better partner than she did.</p><p>Morty grits his blunt teeth and stares down at the fraying green rug in the middle of what he naively thought to be <em>his</em> bedroom.</p><p>“What did I—?” Morty sniffles. “<em>When </em>did I—?”</p><p>Looking at Rick feels like looking into the sun so Morty hangs his head. He sees Rick’s knees land on the rug in front of him and warm arms reach for him. Morty hates himself for melting into his grandfather’s touch but goddamnit he needs it. A long-fingered hand cups the back of Morty’s head and curved claws gently rake Morty’s scalp in a manner that is surprisingly soothing given the circumstances. Rick’s voice rumbles, raw and open: “I don’t think that’s an answer you can handle right now, Morty.”</p><p>Morty hiccups.</p><p>He’s never heard Rick sound so honest, and it’s killing him.</p><p>Unable to fight, Morty nuzzles into the warmth of his grandfather’s collarbone. The man’s potent scent swirls around them both and Morty hates the way he relaxes into the very thing that is suffocating him. Alpha pheromones, especially males ones, have always made him feel so safe.</p><p>God, he’s pathetic. No wonder he’ll always be an Omega.</p><p>Rick gets to hold Morty for as long as he likes; that’s the way this works. Omegas’ bodies don’t belong to themselves, they belong to their Alphas to do with as they please. Which is why in the comfort of his Grandfather’s arms Morty’s defiance melts like snow cradled between gloved fingertips. But as soon as Rick lets go, Morty’s awareness solidifies once again. Stupidity and fear overrule years of social conditioning and without thinking Morty shoves Rick away with both fists.</p><p>It’s a very <em>very</em> bad move.</p><p>The audacity of <em>pushing away</em> an Alpha, especially an old Alpha who has never lost his status to a younger challenger, is considered to be the height of rudeness. Rick straightens. His face, which had softened while Morty grappled with the situation, suddenly hardens with predatory aggression.</p><p>His eyes glow like dim embers, the spikes protruding from his spine glint like sharp knives, and if Morty didn’t know any better he could swear his grandfather grew at least two feet taller. Morty’s basal flight instinct triumphs and he spins on his heel and throws himself at the bedroom door. Pathetic hands scrabble at the cheap wood sending scrapes of dry paint fluttering the floor while sharp splinters catch painfully under Morty’s blunt fingernails. He’s a weak omega—even smaller than most—and never developed long claws like his mom or Rick; nevertheless, his blunt little fingernails still leave long indented claw marks along the wooden door. Morty’s fingertips are bleeding by the time Rick drags him away.</p><p>Morty struggles, throwing away any sense of dignity in favour self-preservation. Rick can’t do this to him! He can’t! It’s not <em>fair!</em></p><p>As he thrashes against his Grandfather’s unrelenting effortless hold, Rick seizes the back of his neck with his thumb and forefinger, his claws digging in painfully, while his whole body weight pins Morty to the floor. The air is crushed out of Morty’s lungs and he madly scrabbles at the carpet, kicking his legs, flicking his tail in desperation.</p><p>“<em>Listen</em> to me you little brat,” Morty flinches as a forked tongue hisses against his ear, “I can either force you or you can submit. I can assure you that the latter will be a <em>lot </em>less painful. But if you decide to keep being an idiot, I’ll subjugate you so fucking hard you’ll be walking wide for a month.” Morty’s breath catches, he can feel his frightened heart hammering against the carpet. His rational mind races to catch up to him, warning him of the potential consequences should he again attempt to flee. Rick eases up from where Morty lies prone; and even though his claws still pinch the back of Morty’s neck, Morty sighs in relief as the weight is lifted. “So what’s it gonna be?”</p><p>Morty gulps.</p><p>A lot less painful?</p><p>The options aren’t great but Morty has been offered a choice.</p><p>The claws leave Morty’s neck and Morty hesitates for only a moment. He gets up and slowly turns to face his Grandfather.</p><p>These days younger Alphas tend to be more progressive and thus implement gentler forms of discipline; but it still isn’t unheard of for an Alpha Lizard to permanently maim or even kill a family member during particularly rough subjugations. Back in the old days, such violence wasn’t even frowned upon, it was even encouraged. Omegas who survived deserved to survive. Omegas killed by their alphas deserved to die. And Rick is—what— sixty? Seventy? By Morty’s frazzled estimate he’s held his alpha-status unchallenged for at least forty years. He would remember the old days and that begs the question: how old-fashioned is he?</p><p>Since he’s screwed either way, Morty decides he’d rather survive this.</p><p>Deciding to err on the side of caution, Morty keeps his gaze downcast—eye-contact could be interpreted as a challenge—and kneels in front of Rick, bowing his head in a traditional symbol of submission.</p><p>“That’s much better, Morty,” Rick praises and Morty’s cheeks burn. Looks like Rick <em>is</em> the old-fashioned type.</p><p>“M-May I speak or-or ask questions?” Morty asks quietly, his eyes unable to leave the floor.</p><p>“You may.”</p><p>“W-w-will it hurt a lot?”</p><p>There’s a heavy pause in which Morty silently agonises over whether Rick is irritated or simply considering the question. Finally a hand, soft yet heavy, lands on Morty’s shoulder in a gesture of what can only be interpreted as paternal affection. The gesture jars against the tension and Morty stills.</p><p>“Stand up, Morty.”</p><p>Morty obeys almost too quickly and scrambles inelegantly to his feet.</p><p>“Get your clothes off.”</p><p>Morty kicks off his shoes and socks before removing his sweatshirt and then his jeans, letting them drop to the floor in a puddled heap.</p><p>“Were you raised in a fucking barn, Morty?” Rick snaps. “Fold them and put them away. And you bow like a perfect frog farmer FYI.”</p><p>Morty bristles at the harsh insult—after all, he’s never bowed before now and Rick knows that—but he does as he’s told. Back-chatting could lead to something awful happening to him and Morty doesn’t want to risk sending his grandfather into another fit of rage. Shamefully, Morty resumes undressing; wincing at the raw naked feeling of exposing his belly scales as his shirt is removed. Rick may be entitled to see whatever he likes of Morty but that doesn’t mean Morty’s okay with it.</p><p>Rick makes a quiet sound of approval and Morty’s tail quivers. Rick doesn’t actually find him attractive does he?</p><p>He isn’t like his mother or Summer and missed out on inheriting Rick’s rare silvery blue scales, instead inheriting his father’s dull brown. In the spring, Morty felt he didn’t look too bad as his scales warmed to a shade of dark red. But during the fall months Morty looks as ordinary and boring as anyone else. Morty frowns slightly as his grandfather circles him, inspecting him, then tsking crossly as Morty moves to cover his privates.</p><p>Morty nearly jumps when his Grandfather stands behind him and shucks off his own pants, letting them fall heavily to the floor in an untidy heap. The rest of his clothing follows and Morty bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from whimpering when Rick grabs his wrist and turns him.</p><p>Morty knows about this part and he’s been dreading it. Whether during subjugation or a mating ritual, it is customary to perform oral sex on one’s alpha, especially if they are older. It can be interpreted a number of ways: affection, ingratiation, apology for wrongdoing, or even a way of begging for leniency. In Morty’s case, it is none of the above, and when he once again kneels in front of Rick, Rick halts him with a hand on his shoulder.</p><p>“What are you doing?” he asks coldly.</p><p>Is this a trick?</p><p>“P-performing oral?” Morty responds questioningly.</p><p>“Why?” Rick’s severe expression sends Morty into a slight panic. Is he going to be punished? Why is Rick displeased? Morty rifles desperately through his frazzled brain for an appropriately respectful response.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Morty tries. “It’s what— i-isn’t this what I’m supposed to do? Like, it’s a tradition-thing?”</p><p>“Well, scientifically speaking traditions are an idiot-thing, <em>Morty,</em>” Rick sighs. “C’mon, get up. Sit on the bed.” Morty’s surprise and confusion causes him to hesitate and Rick’s eyes flash as he barks: “Now!”</p><p>Not daring to refuse, Morty gracelessly scrambles to the bed and sits down. Unsure what to do with his tail, Morty curls it around himself in order to keep it out of the way only for Rick to give an irritated noise and swat it away from him.</p><p>Morty freezes.</p><p>It is <em>not okay</em> to touch someone’s tail unless… well, unless under circumstances like these. But Morty isn’t used to it and even though he wants to snarl at Rick and nip him he allows the inappropriate touch with a clenched fist and a poorly concealed grimace.</p><p>Rick notices Morty’s discomfort and towers over him, fixing Morty with an icy glare.</p><p>“I want you to watch your attitude, Morty,” he hisses.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Morty responds and bows his head, exposing his neck in submission.</p><p>“I’ll let it slide but you’d do well to remember,” Rick reminds him, “I am your Grandfather, <em>and</em> your Alpha, and I get to touch you however I <em>fucking</em> <em>please</em>.” Rick’s lip curls angrily upon the last two words and Morty’s heart thuds.</p><p>“Y-Yes Grandpa.”</p><p>“Good. Now keep your tail out of the way and spread your legs.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You deaf?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Then stop trying my fucking patience.”</p><p>Morty obeys. Even though the act of exposing himself completely mortifies him, it’s better than having Rick grab his tail again and risking nipping him. Rick’s glare doesn’t leave his face as he looks down at Morty’s now fully-exposed hemipenis. He’s small, even considering his age, but that’s generally desirable when it comes to omegas. He’s also completely smooth.</p><p>Rick raises an eyebrow.</p><p>“Only one, huh?”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“You’ve been circumcised.”</p><p>Rick sounds pissed and Morty finds himself flushing with indignation.</p><p>“M-my Dad said it’s n-neater that way,” Morty defends, “a-and that it prevents infection.”</p><p>“Ugh. <em>Please.</em>” Rick rolls his eyes. “What <em>Jerry </em>doesn’t know could fill a library, <em>Morty.</em>”</p><p>Morty doesn’t know how to respond to that and nervously gnaws at his bottom lip; his hands itching to conceal himself while Rick scrutinises his anatomy.</p><p>A hand lands on Morty’s slim thigh and Morty flinches at the unexpectedly tender touch. He’s immediately fearful that his reaction will be interpreted as rejection (and therefore rebellion) but Rick’s amber eyes sparkle with amusement rather than anger. “<em>Jesus Christ, </em>you’re jumpy!” he laughs softly and the sound makes Morty’s stomach flutter only to twist in discomfort seconds later.</p><p>He’s confused. So, so confused. Rick is subjugating him, right? This is a display of dominance and discipline. So why does it feel kind of… good? Sure, Rick’s being bossy, stern, mean—same as always—but he’s also offering him hugs, soft touches, <em>comfort.</em></p><p>What the <em>fuck </em>is going on?</p><p>Morty doesn’t dare ask.</p><p>“Now,” Rick’s mouth curls into a smirk and an odd look flashes across his face. “Lie down.”</p><p>Oh no.</p><p>This is it.</p><p>Despite the sudden terror washing through him, Morty does as he’s told and lets himself fall back on the mattress. It actually feels good to give in and let his heavy body do what it wants to do. He lets out a ragged sigh and tries to think of something to distract him while—</p><p>
  <em>WHAT THE FUCK?!</em>
</p><p>Morty bolts upright with a start as he feels Rick’s hot mouth close upon his single hemipenis. Slippery velvet heat envelops him with ease and Morty’s brain glitches.</p><p>This is <em>never</em> done.</p><p>For an <em>alpha</em> to perform oral sex on an <em>omega</em>… it’s an act so rare it may as well be a myth.</p><p>Of course, plenty of omegas still fantasised about it. Morty included. It’s a common fetish up there with plant and tentacle porn. Everyone knows that most alphas develop multiple tongues when they shed their beta—or, more rarely, omega—statuses after successfully overthrowing their own original alpha. The tongues developed by the predecessor are then used in an act of sexual submission to the new alpha. At least, that has been the tradition for thousands of years.</p><p>Morty has heard younger, more progressively-minded alphas have taken to politely declining the act as it could be seen as a form of humiliation. While older generations insist that turning it down is its own insult.</p><p>Regardless, for an older alpha—one who has resolutely held his status for so long—to perform such an act on a barely-pubescent omega is just… fundamentally <em>wrong. </em>To suggest that Rick could be in any way <em>beneath</em> Morty in the hierarchy is earth-shattering, not to mention profoundly confusing.</p><p>Overwhelmed and overstimulated, Morty begins to squirm. Years of internalised societal expectations are crashing down all around him and Morty realizes that even though he never particularly <em>liked</em> those pillars of normalcy he still needed them. Depended on them. His brain feels like it’s been shoved into a blender and pureed. He needs to process this, justify it somehow with common sense and logic.</p><p>It’s a trick! It must be.</p><p>Rick plans to test him and then punish him for accepting this. He should push Rick away— No! No, he can’t do that again, he’ll be in so much trouble…</p><p>The first of Rick’s forked tongues glides over Morty’s slender hemipenis. It coils around his length, holding him in place as a second begins to lap at Morty’s sensitive tip.</p><p>A nauseating lump coalesces in Morty’s stomach, draining all of his strength.</p><p>What’s he supposed to <em>do? </em>Rick is Alpha. <em>His</em> alpha. Rick gets to do anything he likes with his body. That, Morty supposes, includes the things that shatter societal norms.</p><p>But that doesn’t mean it isn’t breaking him.</p><p>“<em>Rick!</em>” His voice breaks embarrassingly and he tries not to let himself cry as a third tongue beautifully caresses the underside of his eversion near the base, teasing more of his budding erection out of his body. It’s pleasure beyond his wildest fantasies and yet its destroying him. It’s a struggle to breathe, he knows that he’s hyperventilating, and maybe he <em>wants</em> to pass out but he can’t. “Rick <em>please!</em>”</p><p>To Morty’s surprise, Rick stops immediately. In a single fluid movement, the tongues retract and Rick removes his mouth. Morty’s erection springs free with a wet pop. The sheer abruptness leaving him reeling and more afraid than ever.</p><p>Morty’s stomach drops. Rick’s pissed off isn’t he? His hemipenis feels exposed, the slick cooling it rapidly and causing it to retreat back into his body, but Morty doesn’t dare try to cover it.</p><p>“Bit too much was it?”</p><p>Morty tenses, the pressure in his throat leaving him too overwhelmed to speak.</p><p>Rick sounds like he’s holding back a laugh. Morty’s brain veers alarmingly between wanting to scream and unleashing a goddamned waterfall of tears. Instead, the pressure that has built in Morty’s throat finally releases and Morty bursts into a fit of hysterical giggles.</p><p>Rick’s own low rumble of laughter echoes his own and Morty realizes how goddamn good it feels to let out some of the tension. The mattress dips as Rick climbs up on the bed and his face centers Morty’s vision.</p><p>He’s smiling. Proud and pleased. And even though all of this is too much to handle, Morty feels a little safer seeing his Grandfather’s face.</p><p>“I’m sorry. You were so cute and nervous, Morty, I couldn’t resist.” Rick says, amused if a little exasperated. “You alright?”</p><p>“Y-Yeah,” Morty mumbles.</p><p>“Alright, Omega, let’s—let’s get you into position. Up you come.”</p><p>“D-don’t you want me t-to y’know?” Morty offers timidly as Rick manhandles him into position.</p><p>“Touch it,” Rick orders. Morty obeys far too quickly and Rick gives a pained grunt as Morty’s hand clumsily lands upon his engorged hemipenes.</p><p>Morty, sweating with panic, begins a string of desperate apologies only for Rick to silence him with a large firm hand around Morty’s throat. Morty chokes on his words and his eyes water pathetically.</p><p>Rick’s top lip curls into a snarl but the display of aggression doesn’t reach his eyes.</p><p>“God you’re stupid,” Rick growls and reaches for Morty’s trembling hand. Taking it in his own, Rick guides it down to his exposed manhood and Morty’s eyes widen. Rick takes on a knowing expression and Morty almost catches a slight smile as he removes the hand clasped around Morty’s neck and allows him to look down between them.</p><p>Morty understands immediately. There’s no way he was ever going to get those in his mouth.</p><p>Rick’s twin hemipenes are as different to Morty’s single circumcised hemipenis as one could possibly get. Thick, pure white, and much <em>much </em>larger than Morty could have possibly imagined; but those details mean nothing next to the <em>feel</em> of them and Morty’s stomach sinks with dread as he notes the numerous hooks and spicules covering each branch of Rick’s genitalia.</p><p>Fuck. Oh <em>fuck. </em>And that thing’s going to go <em>inside</em> him!</p><p>Fear slithers up Morty’s spine and causes his insides to tighten. This isn’t like before when Morty became overwhelmed and unthinkingly pushed Rick away from him, this is genuine unbridled terror. His chest races into a panic and Morty thrashes beneath Rick who quickly pins him in place.</p><p>Rick can’t do this! He can’t! It’s not fair! Morty didn’t challenge him for dominance, he didn’t disobey any of his crazy orders, he didn’t even argue back! Not often, anyway! Rick’s punishing him for nothing!</p><p>“No!” Morty yells. “No! No!”</p><p>“Morty! Fucking hell! Hold <em>still </em>you little shit!”</p><p>“No! No! No!”</p><p>
  <em>WHACK!</em>
</p><p>White lights pop in Morty’s vision and his head rings like a bell. He’s never been hit before, not even by Summer during their childhood sibling-scuffles; while it was never outwardly spoken, his family always deemed him too delicate for such treatment.</p><p>Morty feels Rick’s long smooth tail coiling obstinately around one of his ankles, holding him in place while he gets into position. It’s completely unnecessary at this stage—he's already paralysed with shock—and so Morty miserably assumes that Rick just wants to show his strength in warning.</p><p>In a minute, those barbed hemipenes are both going to be carving up Morty’s insides in a cruel display of dominance and power. After all, Morty must be in pain for the lesson to sink in, as is the purpose of corporal punishment. He understood that when this began. But does it have to be <em>agony? </em>And <em>why? </em>God dammit! <em>Why? </em>This is all too much for an indiscretion of which Morty still cannot comprehend.</p><p>Tears wet Morty’s face and he wishes he could wipe them away but Rick has both his wrists pinned firmly against the mattress. With no other choice, Morty lies back and weeps bitterly as Rick stares down at him, his own expression unnervingly surprised.</p><p>“You’re <em>crying?</em>” Rick blinks. “Seriously? After one hit?”</p><p>Morty’s too embarrassed to do anything but nod.</p><p>“N-no one’s e-e-ever h-hit me be-be-fore,” his words are a bumbling mess of stammers and Rick’s face visibly softens.</p><p>“Well jeez,” says Rick with a disarming smile. “I just wanted to snap you out of it, kid. You were getting hysterical.”</p><p>“I’m s-scared,” Morty cries and he cowers when Rick lifts another hand to his face. But this time Rick simply strokes Morty’s stinging cheek.</p><p>“Eh. I’m getting aggressive,” says Rick, “and I really overthink shit when I’m angry. Not your fault, buddy.”</p><p>Morty lets out a tight uncontrollable whimper.</p><p>“Shh… shh, baby. I didn’t know, okay?” Rick soothes. “I didn’t know you were still a virgin.”</p><p>Morty’s a little offended by that. Of <em>course </em>he hasn’t been subjugated before. Morty’s a good lizard.</p><p>“We’ll take it slow.”</p><p>Slow?</p><p>Rick’s weight settles between Morty’s legs. His hands are so big he is able to easily wrap his fingers all the way around Morty’s thighs as he lifts them high and bends Morty’s knees, carefully putting Morty into the most open and vulnerable position he’s ever been in.</p><p>Morty’s face grows hot with shame as his Grandfather looks down at his entrance and smirks. He’s slick; has been for weeks. It’s a biological function brought on Rick’s relentless scent-marking, evolutionarily designed to make things easier for them both. Rick cups one side of Morty’s bottom and Morty doesn’t miss the way the old Alpha’s hand is big enough to cover the entire cheek and then some. There is a savage, hungry triumph in the weight of his eyes as he refocuses on Morty’s face and Morty has to will himself not to hide his face in shame. Yes, he’s kind of enjoying this but that’s not his fault! It’s an autonomic reflex. He’s well aware that this is still a punitive procedure and just because he’s behaving docilely and his body is kind enough to self-lubricate it doesn’t mean he isn’t scared out of his wits.</p><p>“You’re trembling.”</p><p>He is?</p><p>“Oh,” Morty swallows thickly. “Sorry.”</p><p>“The fuck you apologizing for?”</p><p>Morty begins to stammer another, equally apologetic, response when all too suddenly a clawed finger presses inside of him. He fails to stifle a gasp as the finger is suddenly buried far deeper than Morty could have ever dreamed.</p><p>Oh sure. He’s masturbated with his own slick before, wriggling a couple of experimental fingers up into his cloaca while his other hand stroked his single small cock. But the results have always been lacklustre. Morty put it down to his digits simply being too small.</p><p>But Rick—oh <em>Rick—</em>is exploring where no man has gone before. He’s nudging Morty’s inner walls apart and making room for himself like Morty’s body was made just for him. And the crazy part? It feels <em>good. </em>The gnarled knife-like claw at the end of Rick’s finger isn’t hurting him somehow, instead acting like an incredibly satisfying scratch for an impossible itch.</p><p>Morty bites his lip. What’s he supposed to do? What’s he supposed to say? Rick doesn’t have to prep him like this—with the amount of slick that’s dripped down his leg and onto the covers it isn’t exactly necessary—but it feels so good that Morty doesn’t dare move or even look Rick in the eye for fear that the pleasure will stop.</p><p>Morty’s stoicism pays off because Rick presses another gnarled finger inside of him and things get even better. Rick’s bending both claws upwards towards Morty’s stomach in a perfectly executed ‘come here’ gesture and—oh fuck <em>yesss—</em>it feels as though Rick is trying to tickle his tummy from the inside.</p><p>“Responsive.” Rick observes.</p><p>A part of Morty wants to apologize again. He’s not supposed to be enjoying this. Enjoying familial subjugation? That’s like enjoying being spanked by one’s mother! Who… who fucking <em>does</em> that? Morty feels sick as his cheeks stain with shame.</p><p>Rick chuckles as though sensing Morty’s humiliation and a third finger enters him. Morty flinches away this time and Rick’s clawed hand bites into his shoulder, pressing him down against the mattress as his eyes darken in warning.</p><p>“You know that’s not allowed, Morty.”</p><p>Morty’s eyes flick between Rick’s burning glare and the three fingers currently pumping in and out of him. Rick’s hand is completely slathered with his reception fluid. <em>God, </em>as if it couldn’t be more obvious that Morty’s a sick little creep. He tries not to whimper when Rick’s three fingers slowly spread apart in such a perfectly practised manner it’s almost surgical.</p><p>It’s a little bit uncomfortable but not unbearable and Morty’s breath quickens. He glances back up at Rick and realizes the man’s eyes are still boring into him, his expression thoroughly displeased.</p><p>“Oh um, sorry? I’ll-I’ll try to keep still.”</p><p>“Good. Now,” Rick shifts and removes all three of his fingers, casually wiping them on Morty’s quilt (gross!) before running a single claw over Morty’s delicate hemipenis as though examining it clinically, “I think I’d like to enter you now while your body temperature is still warm.”</p><p>Morty doesn’t feel warm. His blood has chilled and his scales are raised with fearful goosebumps.</p><p>“Can you be a very good boy for me, Morty?”</p><p>Morty gulps and nods vigorously.</p><p>He’ll be good. He’ll be perfect. He’ll never step a single toe out of line ever again.</p><p>“That’s my brave boy,” Rick praises. “Here we go now, take a nice deep breath in for me.”</p><p>Morty inhales a little too sharply and Rick places a hand over Morty’s stomach. “Nice and slow, now breathe out.” Morty concentrates on taking slow deep breaths as Rick murmurs assents of praise.</p><p>Upon his last steady exhale, the first of Rick’s huge spiked hemipenes presses up against him. The skin of Morty’s cloaca stretches painfully around the sharp intrusion and Morty’s hands clench into fists, gathering the fabric of the quilt as he holds his breath.</p><p>“Rick!” Morty gasps. “W-wait a second!” But either Rick doesn’t hear him or he doesn’t care. He keeps on pushing and even considering how lubricated Morty is, it still feels as though Rick is tearing him apart. “I can’t! Oh god! I can’t!”</p><p>“Shh… yes you can, baby,” Rick soothes. “Here, put your hands on my shoulders. Hold on to me now.”</p><p>Tears of pain stream steadily down Morty’s face, and Rick runs gentle knuckles across Morty’s cheek, wiping them away. But even with the tender caress Morty can’t help closing his eyes and whimpering.</p><p>“You need to relax, Morty. Slow breaths now.”</p><p>Morty grits his teeth and tries to obey, turning his face away to hide his shameful crying. A firm hand lands on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of each breath.</p><p>“There you go. You’re doing great, Morty.” Morty can almost hear a smile in his Grandfather’s voice.</p><p>“It hurts!”</p><p>That’s a stupid thing to say and Morty cringes as soon as he says it. This <em>should</em> hurt. It’s meant to. Rick’s going to laugh at him again, isn’t he? He’s going to tell him he deserves this and—</p><p>But Rick stops.</p><p>After a horrible pause where Morty wonders if he’s going to be hit again, he finally dares to open his eyes and look up at Rick. Rick’s frowning but he doesn’t look angry, more… concerned? Rick adjusts himself slightly and— oh. <em>Oh.</em></p><p>“Better?”</p><p>Morty blinks.</p><p>“Morty, your Alpha just asked you a question,” Rick says sternly.</p><p>“Oh. Um. Y-yeah. I mean, yes, Alpha.”</p><p>“Mm, I thought it might.”</p><p>Rick’s warm fingers wrap around Morty’s hip and he angles Morty’s pelvis so that it cradles his own. He’s edging inside of Morty again, slowly, steadily, but it isn’t nearly as painful this time. Instead of ripping membranes and tearing flesh, they’re scraping lightly over Morty’s walls, the spines and ridges causing his interior to ripple with pleasant vibrations.</p><p>“How’re you feeling?”</p><p>“Um… I-I’m okay,” Morty replies quietly.</p><p>“Use your words, babe. Tell me what you’re feeling.”</p><p>“Confused,” Morty says honestly.</p><p>“Confused? Why confused?” Rick asks.</p><p>“Confused ‘cause— ‘cause I don’t think I’m meant to enjoy subjugation, Rick. I think there might be something wrong with me.” Morty’s cheeks burn. “I-I think I’m sick.”</p><p>“What?!” Rick, to Morty’s horror, bursts out laughing. Morty bristles as Rick buries his head against his collarbone, laughing uproariously before sitting up and looking down at Morty with an expression equally fond and exasperated. “Oh my god, you really are an idiot!”</p><p>Morty must be because he doesn’t understand at all.</p><p>“Morty,” Rick laughs, “this was never a subjugation ritual.”</p><p>“Then why—”</p><p>“Do I seriously have to explain this? Your mother gave you to me so that I could <em>breed</em> with you.”</p><p>Morty’s mouth falls open in shock.</p><p>“You want me as your <em>mate?</em>” Morty squeaks. “<em>Me?</em>”</p><p>“Uh, <em>yeah</em>, you little shit!” Rick chuckles and gives Morty’s forehead an affectionate flick with his claw. “I can’t believe you thought— Christ, Morty, what the fuck could you have done deserve that kind of punishment?”</p><p>“Aw jeez, I figured it wasn’t my place to ask,” Morty says truthfully.</p><p>“Psh!” Rick scoffs. “You have what we in the business call a very planetary mindset.”</p><p>Morty pouts.</p><p>“I’m the master of my own universe, Morty.” Rick explains. “And that means I get to decide what rules I wanna follow.”</p><p>“So… why’d you stop just now?”</p><p>“Because, dummy, I’m all the way in.”</p><p>Morty looks down and, sure enough, he can’t see either of Rick’s bulging hemipenes anymore. They’re both buried inside of him to the hilt. There’s no blood, no bruising, it doesn’t even hurt a little.</p><p>“You doing okay?” Rick asks and Morty nods, feeling a little embarrassed. “Good.”</p><p>Carefully, Rick pulls himself out of Morty before easing back in. It’s like slotting a key into a lock: perfect and exact. And Morty melts at the overwhelming <em>satisfaction</em>.</p><p>He must have made a noise because Rick gives him a fang-dazzled grin and thrusts in a little harder with a soft, pleased, grunt. His huge hands—filled with life-giving warmth—stroke down Morty’s body, over his small gasping chest and down his sensitive belly scales.</p><p>Rick is touching him where no one should. And Morty doesn’t give a shit. Rick can own him, Rick can do whatever he likes to all the forbidden virginal places of his body, and Morty is equal parts relieved and excited to give in.</p><p>“Mmm…” Morty murmurs as tingles of pleasure shoot through him. It isn’t just the sublime way that Rick’s barbs gently rake his insides, stimulating his body in preparation for breeding; it’s the fact that, with his age and status, his Grandfather could have anyone to be his mate. And the fact he chose <em>him?! </em>It’s not just flattering; it’s unreal.</p><p>“Oh Rick? I-I should tell you,” Morty stammers, “I haven’t had my first heat yet. I… um… I won’t be—”</p><p>“Don’t worry about that right now,” says Rick. “Just enjoy yourself.”</p><p>Enjoy? Morty frowns, perplexed. He opens his mouth to question the order but at that moment Rick surges up and slots their mouths together in a passionate kiss.</p><p>Morty freezes for one whole heartbeat before excitedly returning his kiss. This is different. Really different. But Morty has no desire to question it. Rick’s tongues are many and long and <em>skilled. </em>It feels good and if Rick wants him to enjoy himself then who is he to put up a fuss? Morty’s arms lock around Rick’s neck and in an act that surprises them both, he wraps his tail around Rick’s, squeezing and stroking the appendage with feverish affection.</p><p>Rick is his Alpha and now his mate. And Morty couldn’t be more honoured to please him.</p><p>The effect is instantaneous and Morty can’t help a small excited smile as Rick groans with pleasure, the hemipenes buried within his body throb heavily as Rick’s thrusts lose their coordination.</p><p>The kiss turns from passionate to savage and before Morty can blink Rick has coiled both arms around his tiny body and lifted him flush against himself. Morty’s back is barely touching the bed as Rick fucks him as though his life depends on it.</p><p>“Fuck, kid, keep stroking my ego like that and we might need more than just the weekend.”</p><p>Morty can’t help the moan that escapes his lips and he’s rewarded with another kiss.</p><p>“That’s it, baby. Love the noises you make. Tell me who you belong to.”</p><p>“Rick!” Morty gasps. “Rick! Rick!”</p><p>“Mmm… good boy,” even without looking at him, Morty can hear the fondness in Rick’s voice. “Such a good boy for Grandpa.”</p><p>With that, Rick begins thrusting in earnest, driving in and out of Morty’s body with a kind of desperation that feels like hunger. Morty’s rim burns deliciously against the twin cocks on their way out. His insides clench as he desperately tries to hold Rick inside, to keep his strong devouring presence safe inside himself where he knows they can always protect each other.</p><p>Rick is dangerous.</p><p>An Alpha amongst Alphas with claws that rip and teeth that tear. This is something Morty knows in his blood as adrenaline and the heady, almost high feeling of pitting himself against the darkness rushes through him. He’s high on every biological instinct he has—fight, flight, <em>fuck</em>—and Morty finally understands that this is what he was meant for. What he was <em>born </em>for.</p><p>Rick allows him to squeeze his tail, to hold onto him him a little tighter, to nuzzle into his warmth as Morty’s single reddened hemipenis drips onto his stomach. He’s getting close but doesn’t dare let himself come without his Alpha’s permission.</p><p>“Alpha!”</p><p>“Use my real name, Morty,” Rick grunts between thrusts.</p><p>“Rick!”</p><p>“You’re close aren’t you baby?”</p><p>Morty nods. His body tightens in resistance.</p><p>Rick responds to Morty in a voice rough with age and low with need, reminding him that Morty belongs to <em>him </em>and that pleasure is a privilege bestowed upon him. Then with a hungry growl Rick whispers against Morty’s cheek: “Let go.”</p><p>The order is not something Morty could possibly ignore.</p><p>In less time than could possibly be measured, the intensity of release slams through Morty like an electrocution, sparking through him, strong and unrelenting; and Morty has no control over the pathetic sob of “<em>Rick!</em>” as he spills himself over his stomach, chest, and the bed.</p><p>But it doesn’t stop there.</p><p>Rick pulls out of him completely—Morty has a few moments of cold empty respite where nothing is touching him—and then his hands are back, this time insistently rolling Morty onto his side. Morty tenses, trying to get his head around to see his Grandfather before Rick stabs into him again.</p><p>“Mine,” Rick rasps, getting a hand on Morty’s sagging oversensitive cock and jerking it insistently. “I want to hear you. Come on, Morty. Let it out.”</p><p>Morty does. Moaning loudly as Rick mercilessly ignites him all over again, sending hot bolts of pleasure shooting through Morty’s body as he pants out staccato breathy sobs. His tiny cock is swollen, smooth, and dripping as Rick zeroes in on—</p><p>Pain. Oh fuck, <em>pain!</em></p><p>Somehow, Morty is still coming anyway—his body too far gone to stop—but the only thing he can think about is Rick, sunk deep inside of his used body, reaching a place within him even more virginal and sensitive. All he can feel are the barbs cutting into him there—oh <em>god! </em>Rick is cutting into him!—and he’s screaming, a wild animal-like sound that’s equal parts arousal and agony; while Rick no longer thrusts, his twin cocks grow larger, larger—<em>oh fuck no, too big! Too much!</em>—and the barbs sink in, grasping at the most raw untouched part of Morty, and <em>yank</em>. Tearing him apart.</p><p>“Rick! Please!” Morty wails.</p><p>Rick is <em>devouring </em>him.</p><p>“I’m sorry, baby,” and Rick actually has the decency to sound mournful, “but this is necessary. Just try to endure it.”</p><p>Rick moves within him and hot liquid bursts within Morty as Rick emits a low devouring growl. The pleasure douses the pain like water on a pyre.</p><p>It doesn’t hurt, isn’t burning, but the memory of pain is still too strong and Rick grips Morty’s arms as he starts to struggle, holding him still, his teeth quickly sink into Morty’s neck and clamp down. It doesn’t hurt but Morty can feel his heartbeat thudding against his Grandfather’s sharp teeth and it leaves him trembling.</p><p>Rick’s hemipenes have locked in place within Morty’s body, keeping the sperm caged within him to increase the odds of fertilising his eggs.</p><p>Morty lies still, his breath coming in heaving gasping sobs. His body feels hot and his head feels light. He he’s so high now he wonders if he’ll ever come down.</p><p>But of course, eventually, he must.</p><p>Eventually Morty’s frantic pulse is unable to sustain its hummingbird pace; it slows to a steady throb and an uncomfortable calm settles over him. His body cools even with the close-contact and the stickiness that has spilled all over himself and the sheets grows tacky, then crunchy. Time crawls and shadows lengthen, then blend into one. The room dims to cool blue tinged with the warm outdoor glow of a closeby streetlamp. Since its mid-fall, Morty estimates it’s at least six o’clock.</p><p>Jeez… how long is Rick going to keep him here? All night? All tomorrow? Morty has homework and he kinda needs to go to the bathroom. He’s stiff in all the wrong places and his right arm is a little uncomfortable from the position. But when he tries to wriggle away Rick’s limbs constrict around him, fingertips digging into Morty’s hips hard enough to bruise. His teeth bite down a little harder upon the side of Morty’s throat, and he stills; his pulse quickening once again. Looks like comfort is a privilege now.</p><p>Morty must have fallen asleep in his awkward position because he eventually feels himself waking to the feeling of Rick slowly easing away from him. He’s surprised at how sore his neck feels from the bite, noting that it didn’t feel nearly so bad when the teeth were actually sunk into his flesh.</p><p>“Rick?” Morty croaks. Everything feels sore, even his throat.</p><p>“I’m here Morty,” Rick answers. “How’s the pain?”</p><p>“Oh… ’m good.”</p><p>“You’re a terrible liar, Morty.” Morty feels the mattress behind him shift and Rick gently repositions him onto his back. Morty looks up at his Grandfather who is looking down at him with an uncharacteristically worried expression. Morty blinks up at him, confused. How—<em>oh jeez</em>—how bad does he look right now? Rick helps him to sit up, which makes his cloaca and lower back sting like a bitch, and hands Morty a glass of water before producing an orange vial full of pills. “T-take two of these. It’ll help.”</p><p>Morty does as he’s told.</p><p>“Are these anti-fertilisation drugs?” He asks after swallowing a mouthful of water and is surprised to find the water is exactly the way he likes it: chilled and flavoured with a slice of lemon.</p><p>“Close. They’re painkillers, strong ones. They should help to get you back on your feet.”</p><p>Holding his breath, Morty moves aside the sheet that has been drawn up around his hips. His shoulders slump and his stomach drops at the sight of himself.</p><p>His lap is covered with bruises. Blue and purple have mixed into ugly yellow creating a blotchy tapestry of <em>hurt</em>. It’s no wonder Rick looks so concerned, but that of course begs the question:</p><p>“Rick… oh jeez, what did you do to me?”</p><p>Rick sighs and sits down on the bed.</p><p>“I lost a little control. Just for a minute, I swear. Otherwise you’d be fairing a lot worse.”</p><p>Thoughts flicker through Morty’s mind of nests, hatchlings, <em>eggs </em>and he places a tentative hand over his belly.</p><p>“I… am I…?”</p><p>“Not this time, I promise.” Rick explains, immediately guessing where Morty’s line of question was going. “I gave myself a shot so I wouldn’t. I also wasn’t supposed to fall into a rut like that but—uh—<em>yeeeah, </em>I guess the drug needs some adjustment.”</p><p>“Will I be okay?”</p><p>“Psh. Of course! What am I, a hack?” Rick has the audacity to look offended and Morty’s eyes narrow. “You’re gonna be pretty sore for a bit. I gave your cloaca a real pounding. But those pills are the shit, dawg. You’re gonna be fine in no time.”</p><p>“Then… what happened? What went wrong?”</p><p>“You uh… nobody told me you were a virgin Morty.”</p><p>Morty blinks.</p><p>“Wh-what? But Rick I’m only fourteen!”</p><p>“Things were different back in my day, kid.” Rick explains. “And finding out you were untouched? That I was the first to stake a claim? Man, that—” Rick gives a pleasured sigh which slithers unpleasantly into Morty’s stomach. “Your parents really should have given me all the information.”</p><p>“So that’s why it hurt? At… at the end there?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Rick nods. “And don’t worry. It won’t hurt like that again. The membranes will thicken and you’ll be able to handle it much better.”</p><p>“You mean we… we’re gonna do it again?”</p><p>“I mean, <em>Morty,</em>” Rick rolls his eyes, “that we can do it, <em>or not, </em>wherever you like, whenever you like, in as many different <em>ways</em> as you like.”</p><p>Morty blanches. Astounded. What is Rick saying? Morty looks down into his glass where the single lemon slice bobs amid the smooth surface of the water.</p><p>“Wh-where’d you get the lemon?” Morty asks suddenly. “Th-they’re not in season.”</p><p>“Psh. Not in <em>this</em> dimension,” Rick waves a hand dismissively.</p><p>“Aw jeez, y-you mean—<em>ckoh!” </em>Morty coughs and Rick surges forward to place a hand on his shoulder, encouraging him to drink by tilting the glass to his lips. “You mean you travelled to an alternate dimension just for me?”</p><p>“You’re making it sound way more altruistic than it is, Morty. I travel to alternate timelines all the time. It’s not a big deal.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“But if you wanna— y’know, if you wanna go there then, <em>yes,</em> I went to an alternate dimension just for you.” Rick doesn’t look at him. “I-if you insist on being accurate about it.”</p><p>“That was nice of you.”</p><p>“Whatever.”</p><p>Morty smiles shyly when he notices a faint blush across his Grandfather’s cheeks. He slings a leg over the side of the bed only to hiss in pain at the explosive burn in his cloaca.</p><p>“Uh-uh!” Rick tuts at him crossly, taking Morty’s leg and gently positioning it back on the mattress and tucking him in up to the waist. “No getting up, buddy. You’re spending the rest of the evening in bed. Tomorrow too if I think you need it.”</p><p>“But you said—”</p><p>“I fucking know what I said!” Rick snaps. “They’re good painkillers but I… I need you to stay put. And you need to do as I say for once.”</p><p>Morty has no urge to protest. “<em>I need you” </em>from Rick is a sentence Morty wouldn’t ignore even if Rick weren’t his Alpha or his Grandfather. He makes a show of settling comfortably against the pillows. “Okay.”</p><p>“Okay?”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Rick looks away awkwardly. “Do you—<em>uh</em>—need anything?”</p><p>Morty is about to tell him no but is interrupted by a loud rumbling of his stomach. Morty’s embarrassed for a brief moment but his embarrassment evaporates when he catches Rick’s face light up.</p><p>It was so quick—a brief softening of his features and an enthusiastic rise of his unibrow—something easily missed it if you weren’t intimately familiar with Rick’s usual hard lines and sharp edges. But Morty sees it and in that moment his insides flutter dreamily.</p><p>“I-I guess I’m hungry?” Morty offers.</p><p>Rick gives an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll guess I’d better get you some-some dinner. What do you— wh-what do you want? Chicken karaage? Lasagne? Pizza? You want pizza?”</p><p>“Pizza sounds okay, Rick.”</p><p>“Kay I’ll… I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t— d-don’t move.”</p><p>“I won’t.”</p><p>Rick hesitates and Morty smiles reassuringly.</p><p>“I promise.”</p><p>
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</p><p>It’s lunchtime the following day before Rick is finally comfortable letting Morty out of bed. He doesn’t dare move until Rick pulls the covers off him and inspects him between his legs. Morty is more than impressed with how quickly the bruises have faded—he’s no longer black and blue but his injuries could be mistaken for a case of lower-body jaundice (is that a thing?)—though Rick doesn’t look particularly pleased.</p><p>“Hmf,” Rick huffs, “it’ll do.”</p><p>Making his way downstairs, Morty finds that either Rick’s scent has changed or it he’s gotten used to it. Regardless, it no longer bothers him. It’s diffused throughout the house like an expensive fragrance—classic, subtle, sophisticated—and Morty finds himself drawn closer to its source.</p><p>Uncertain of his place, Morty shuffles cautiously to where Rick is seated on the couch and sits down at his feet, curling one arm around Rick’s calf in order to rest his head against his Grandfather’s lap.</p><p>Even though the floor may not be the most comfortable place to sit, it feels nice. Feels right.</p><p>“M-Morty?” Rick’s hand lands on top of Morty’s head, claws gently raking his scalp in what may be the best goddamned scalp massage of his life.</p><p>“Mm?” Morty hums, nuzzling his Grandfather’s thigh.</p><p>“Jesus, you omegas get seriously clingy after sex don’t you?” Rick muses. He sounds cross and Morty hastily moves to give Rick space. “Ugh! It’s not a complaint, dipshit. C’mere.”</p><p>Morty nearly yelps in surprise when Rick lifts him up onto his lap.</p><p>“This ought to be more comfortable.”</p><p>Morty perches stiffly on his grandfather’s knee. Rick takes a swig from his flask and changes the channel from an alien nature documentary to a rerun of Ghost Punchers (“It’s like Ghost Hunters, Morty, but instead of getting scared the crew start smashing things,” Rick explained once.) Rick braces one arm across him and settles back against the couch cushions. Lying back against Rick’s chest, Morty exhales slowly and allows himself to relax; lost to the rhythm of his grandfather’s heart against his back. He puts an ear to Rick’s chest and closes his eyes. He’s safe here. He’ll always be safe here.</p><p>Rick runs a hand up and down Morty’s arm. “Don’t fall asleep before dinner,” he orders.</p><p>“I won’t.”</p><p>Rick trails the knuckle of his thumb up Morty’s throat, tilting up his chin. Morty’s dull sleepy eyes meet Rick’s shining ones and his heart stops as Rick’s expression darkens for a fraction of a second only to smooth out again as soon as he knows he’s been caught.</p><p>The thumb-knuckle against Morty’s jugular is swapped out for Rick’s hand and Morty holds his breath as Rick holds him by the throat. He isn’t squeezing or hurting him, simply holding him still.</p><p>“I marked you good, kid,” Rick says in a soft dark voice.</p><p>“Yeah. Yeah you did.”</p><p>It’s still tender even with the drugs Rick gave him and from the dangerously pleased look on Rick’s face, it will be like that for a while.</p><p>Rick removes his hand and cards his fingers through Morty’s hair.</p><p>“Had to though,” Rick explains, “I had to let them all know you’re mine. My Morty.”</p><p>Something—not <em>knowledge</em> but rather the cold and obvious lack of it—suddenly slams into Morty and he jerks upright in Rick’s arms. Rick’s face contorts into wrathful expression of rightful indignation and Morty worries, fleetingly, that Rick will discipline him.</p><p><em>But he hasn’t so far.</em> Morty reminds himself. There were threats but even though Rick had every right to punish him for trying to run away yesterday, he had refrained. So even when the look of outrage doesn’t leave Rick’s face, Morty gulps down his fear and chooses to trust his Grandfather.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Morty says truthfully. “I just… I still don’t understand.”</p><p>“I don’t <em>expect</em> you to understand, idiot,” Rick seethes. “I expect you to obey.”</p><p>“I just mean,” Morty continues recklessly, “I… Why am I on your lap, Rick? And why did you want to mate with me this weekend?” Morty picks at a loose thread on his pyjamas. “I just don’t understand…”</p><p>Rick pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a long sigh. He no longer looks irritated, simply tired and perhaps a little bemused by the question.</p><p>“Look, I can’t change what I am. Each entity in existence—in every perceivable existence—lives as something unique and carries the characteristics of what it is across dimensions. In other words, X is X. A Rick is always a Rick. And no matter what universe I exist in—whether I am lizard, wasp, or ape descended—I will always be a Rick who needs his Morty.”</p><p>Morty’s lost but Rick just smiles at him and gives him an affectionate pat on the head.</p><p>“I don’t expect you to follow along with all that,” Rick says casually. “It’s super meta and pretentious as fuck. Th-the point, Morty, is that I wanted you as my companion and the only way to-to have you and keep your parents off my back was to take over and replace your Mom as the de facto Alpha of the household. So now you know the real reason I fucked you. And now… now the two of us are gonna head on outta here and go on—go on all sorts of crazy sci-fi adventures, Morty. Just you and me. And y’know, sometimes we’ll bring your sister. But it’s mostly gonna be just you and me, Morty. I’m gonna accomplish great things, Morty. And you’re gonna be a part of ‘em. Together we’re gonna run around and do all kinds of wonderful things, Morty. Just you and me. Rick and Morty doing crazy stuff. Rick and Morty a hundred years, Rick and Morty…”</p><p>“That sounds…” Morty mumbles shyly. “That sounds like-like something I’d like.”</p><p>“Eh. M-Morties don’t really… you don’t really get a say in any perceivable universe, Morty. But, hey, nice to know you’re gonna have some fun along the way.”</p><p>Morty smiles shyly. “Yeah I guess. But why me, Rick? There are probably better mates. Better partners for you to breed with.”</p><p>“Think I care?” Rick scoffs. “I know what I want, <em>Morty. </em>And when I want something, I take it. One of the perks of being on top of the universe.”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>Morty turns his attention back to the television where a man is cracking a ouija board over one knee.</p><p>“Something’s still bothering you.” Rick states.</p><p>“Oh. I guess?” Morty responds. “I uh… I still don’t really get what <em>this</em> was all about.”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“Why did—ah jeez—why did being bred feel so good? And why don’t you care that I’m not fertile yet?” Morty finally asks.</p><p>“I-in other realities,” Rick explains, “people don’t just have sex to reproduce or punish each other. People do it because they like it. Because they like <em>each other.</em>”</p><p>“Oh.” Morty doesn’t know how to react to that. It sounds completely wild but wilder still is the implication: That Rick likes <em>him</em>. Morty looks up at Rick and considers asking him the question burning on his lips. He wants to hear him say it. <em>Oh, </em>how desperately he wants that! But seeing Rick act all fluffy for a lowly Omega like him would be simply undignified and Morty wants to continue to view his Grandfather as the god-tier Alpha that he is. Besides, with how charitable Rick’s been with his affection since last night, asking for more would just be greedy.</p><p>So instead, Morty just smiles and settles against his Grandfather’s warm chest; his grin widening when he thinks about how shocked his parents will be when they eventually walk in and see the pair of them cuddling on the couch together like a mated pair instead of Morty behaving subservient to Rick.</p><p>“The universe sounds like a pretty amazing place, Rick.”</p><p>Rick lets out a low laugh.</p><p>“Oh Morty,” he murmurs. “You don’t know the half of it.”</p>
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